


Grimm

by Levis_turtles



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Grim reaper au, M/M, death au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: It all started when Dipper Pines met Death...





	

**Author's Note:**

> IM BACK, BABY! 
> 
> Just a short little BillDip Ficlet because I was feeling nostalgic and I missed my boys

Dipper was sitting in a cafe – his sister’s cafe, because it was the only place in the city where people paid him to eat something – tapping away at his laptop, when someone pulled at the chair next to his own.

“Is anyone sitting here?” Someone asked.

Dipper didn’t bother to look up. “No. You can have the chair,” he said, because if the chair wasn’t there, there would be even less of a chance that Mabel would decide to plonk down beside him and lecture him about his barren love life. Dipper expected the person to take the chair to another table and sit down with their friends; he was suitably surprised when that was not what happened. 

The stranger pulled the chair out further, and sat back into it. It was only then that Dipper looked up, and was suddenly at a loss for words.

Dipper did not do well with beautiful people, and sitting before him was one of the most beautiful men Dipper had seen this year, if not this _century_. Black hair, bronze skin, pale blue eyes. The man was supernaturally beautiful, like something out of a novel – the kind of person that did not suddenly decide to sit next to someone like _Dipper Pines_.

“Can I help you?” Dipper asked, arching an eyebrow.

The man shook his head. “No thank you. There weren’t any other seats.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Dipper cast a cursory look around the cafe and, sure enough, there weren’t any other places to sit. Mabel’s cafe had become popular as soon as it had opened, and it wasn’t really surprising for it to be as packed as a tin of sardines.

“I don’t mind,” Dipper said, hesitantly, not entirely sure that he didn’t. “But I won’t be much company.” He gestured to his laptop, open to a word document. “I have an essay due tomorrow.”

“What about?” The man asked.

Dipper shrugged, “Literature. A Streetcar named Desire.” Dipper angled his body away from his laptop, towards the man.

“That’s a good one,” the man said, surprising Dipper yet again. Usually when Dipper mentioned the play, people got a look on their faces that Mabel liked to call ‘plastic interest’. “Promiscuity, Love, Death, _Addiction_.”

“Mental illness.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted, ever so slightly. “I’m Bill.”

“Mason.”

Bill held out his hand and, slowly, with only a sliver of reluctance, Dipper shook it.

“I- _Mabel_ , what are you doing?”

Bill turned around, looking where Dipper was looking. Mabel was kneeling on the floor, hiding behind some poor teenager’s chair, listening in. She popped up when Dipper addressed her, grinning like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Hi, Dipper!” Her eyes moved immediately to Bill, “Who’s your friend?”

“No one,” Dipper said, too quickly.

Bill smiled, “I’m Bill.” He held out his hand, and when Mabel crawled forward to take it, Bill pulled her to her feet. “I’m talking to Mason about his English essay.”

“Mason?” Mabel looked to Dipper, “What?”

Dipper shrugged, “I don’t know the guy." 

Bill was frowning. He asked Dipper, “Is Mason not your name?”

“It is,” Dipper said, “but-”

“No one calls him that,” Mabel said, cutting in. “I haven’t heard anyone call him that since we were kids.”

“So, what do people call you instead?”

“Dipper, mostly,” Mabel said, commandeering the conversation again. “Or Dip-dop, sometimes Dipperoo. Depends how mad I am at him.”

Dipper buried his face in his hands, “Kill me.”

Bill muttered something – Dipper didn’t catch what it was.

“Anyway,” Mabel said, voice suddenly half an octave higher. “I have tables to clean – this is my cafe, by the way, I’m not just some randomer – Dipper, I’ll interrogate you later. You,” she clicked her fingers at Bill, “make sure he eats something, before he wastes away. Bye!”

And then she was gone. Dipper blinked after her, shaking his head.

“I like her,” Bill said, before Dipper could apologise for her behaviour. “She’s got spunk.”

“There are two definitions of that word,” Dipper said, “and you’d better hope you meant the one I’m choosing to believe you meant.” 

Bill grinned, “Believe what you like, kiddo. But, I really should be going.”

Dipper frowned, “You just sat down. You haven’t even bought anything.”

“It’s later than I thought it was,” Bill said. “I’ll have to come back later. Will you be here?”

“Should be,” Dipper said. “I help Mabel clean up after hours – she’s my sister.”

“Then I will see you later,” Bill said. Dipper watched him rise from his chair, and unabashedly checked him out as he walked out of the shop. Bill turned to wink at him through the window once he was outside, and Dipper felt himself blush as he returned to his essay.

 

 

 

Closing time came and went, but Bill never came back. Dipper had drawn the more than likely assumption that Bill had seen him from across the shop, thought he was cute, only to realise his mistake when he was close enough to see him properly.

Dipper wouldn’t consider himself attractive – Mabel got all the good genes, he had always known that. She was soft, and sweet, with a pretty smile and a cute nose and bright, beautiful eyes. Dipper was different. He was sharper, not even close to sweet, with a red nose and under-eye shadows and a resting bitch face. Dipper had always known it – Mabel was beautiful, and he was not.

There was also the issue of their personalities. Mabel was happy, pure and simple. She was an optimist, she was bubbly, she was kind and sparkly and everyone loved her. Dipper was, once again, the opposite. He was clinically depressed – had been since he was a teenager – and he was awkward. People found Dipper as difficult to love as a burnt omelette or a runny nose.

But he didn’t hate Mabel because of that – in some ways, it made him love her more. Because she was such a wonderful person, the kind of person that could strike warmth into the heart just by smiling. She was wonderful, the best person Dipper knew, and-

Dipper gasped as a hand shot out of the darkness. Cold fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, and a hard tug had the thoughts spilling out of his mind as his forehead slammed against a wall.

Dipper slid to the ground, groaning as the wet grime coating the street soaked through the fabric of his clothes. “What-?”

“Give me your wallet,” a shaking voice demanded.

Dipper froze – he didn’t have a wallet.

“Come on,” the voice yelled. “Move, now.”

Dipper couldn’t. He was sat on the ground, something cold as ice gripping him by the heart – he couldn’t move.

“I don’t have a wallet,” he managed to choke out. “I’m a student – I don’t have any money.”

“Then what were you doing in a _cafe_?”

Dipper’s tongue was lead in his mouth. “I-!” He sighed. He was done for. He rolled his head to the side, looked up at the man. His breath stopped short when he noticed the guy had a gun.

Dipper was going to die.

The finger over the trigger was shaky, the hand steadying the barrel was worse. The voice was almost illegible. “I’ll ask you one last time,” the man said, aiming the gun at Dipper’s chest. “Give me your wallet.”

Something hot touched Dipper’s face – tears. He was going to die. “I don’t have a wallet,” he said. “I don’t-”

“ _I don’t believe you!”_

The man’s shoulder jerked, his finger twitched, Dipper clamped his eyes shut as he waited for the shot to click.

Nothing clicked.

Instead, Dipper heard the dull thud of a body hitting the ground. Two bodies, one of top of the other. He heard the man with the gun grunting as someone else hit him, over and over and over again. Dipper didn’t dare open his eyes.

There was one last weak cry, then the sound of someone getting to their feet, then the feeling of a warm hand on Dipper’s shoulder

“You can open your eyes now.”

Dipper did – it was Bill.

“You-?”

“Hush,” Bill said, pressing a finger to Dipper’s lips. “We have to go.”

Dipper looked at the man. He was lying on the ground, face down, with the barrel of the gun buried halfway through his skull. A pool of blood surrounded his head.

Dipper felt his mouth go dry. “You killed him,” he said.

“That’s my job.”

Dipper looked Bill up and down. He was all in black, just like before, but this time, Dipper noticed something different. In Bill’s ear, glinting in the moonlight, was an earring, in the shape a scythe.

“Oh, no.”

Bill beamed, “Oh, yes!”

Dipper shook his head. He scrambled to his feet, and took a step back, pressing himself against the wall. “This is bad.”

“No, this is good.” Bill made to take a step forwards, then stopped when Dipper flinched. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m talking to Death,” Dipper said, “and Death is talking back.” He shook his head, fisting his hands in his hair. “I thought everything was fine – I thought I was getting better, but- my therapist is gonna _kill me_.”

“Whoa, kid.” Bill put his hands up between them, took a step back. “You need to calm down – the only person killing anyone here is me.”

Dipper shook his head, “You’re not real.”

Bill looked down at himself. “Are you sure?”

“Stop asking stupid questions. I can’t hear you.” 

“If you can’t hear me, how do you know I’m asking stupid questions?”

“Because- oh, no. Mabel’s gonna have my ass for this!”

“Kid, you seriously need to get a hold of yourself.”

“No, I need- ”Dipper reached into his bag, and pulled out a short tube of pills. “I couldn’t have taken a large enough dose if I-”

“Whoa!” Bill lurched forwards, plucked the bottle out of Dipper’s hands. “More of this is the last thing you need.”

Dipper was shaking, staring at the ground with wide eyes, muttering to himself. 

“Okay,” Bill said, “I’m sorry I have to do this, but you’ve left me with literally no other choice.” He placed his hands on Dipper’s shoulders, and everything went black.


End file.
